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Alinor drew her embroidery frame forward and began to ply her needle. She was very glad she had sent for it. Otherwise she would have had considerable difficulty in concealing her amusement. It was obvious from Sir Guy's first words why Ian had sent the young man to her on parole rather than hanging him out of hand. Any gentleman who had obviously fought bravely without proper arms, who demanded to suffer the fate of his common followers, and who loudly proclaimed his responsibility for his deeds in the face of threat, was well worth saving. Alinor controlled her impulse to smile at the unhappy captive and raised her eyes from her work. It was a rather charming face her eyes met, although not at all handsome. The hair was sandy and nondescript, the eyes blue, the nose snub, the mouth wide and generous. The young man did not appear very clever, but his face should have been laughing and open. The expression of bitterness and anxiety he wore sat very ill upon it. |
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"Do not be so certain that your fate will be lighter than that of your men. I am the Lady of Roselynde, and it is my property you have despoiled and my servants you have oppressed. Moreover, I am of the kind who is quite expert in extracting every mil owed me." |
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"You will get nothing from my poor men. It was because they were starving that they turned outlaw. As for me, you will get no horse and armor ransom from this knight. My armor is long gone, my horse is a sorry nag stolen from some farmyard, and I have not a relative in the world who would admit he knows my name, much the less pay a penny for my life." |
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Again Alinor had to suppress the urge to smile. "Suppose you tell me, Sir Guy, how you came to this sorry state." |
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"Through our beloved king." |
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The tone was so bitter, so vicious, that Alinor was startled and Beorn moved a step closer, his hand on his sword hilt. Alinor warned her master-at-arms back with |
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